


A Miracle

by GestaltistCake



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Angst, Emotional Intensity, Fluff, M/M, No Smut, Post-Canon, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GestaltistCake/pseuds/GestaltistCake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marik uses the quantum cube to bring Bakura back from the Shadow Realm</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by and would not exist without girahimu-sama's amazing drawings: http://girahimu-sama.tumblr.com/post/148222836716/lets-go-home-i-couldnt-resist-the-idea-of

When Bakura entered the Shadow Realm, he double-checked his surroundings. All he could sense was the stature of his own body. The rest was a dark void, filled with wisps of decaying spirits. He knew it would be pointless to walk in any direction, so he sat down on the cold ground. There was nothing for him here. There wouldn’t even be a way for him to keep records of his thoughts, his actions, or the passage of time. It was solitary confinement of the worst kind. He had been completely abandoned. 

As he sat there, his thoughts began to wander. He thought of his final game with the pharaoh, in which he had been thoroughly humiliated and ultimately defeated. What would an onlooker think of the life of the great Thief King Bakura? Had his life been a grand joke? Had his sole purpose been to provide the Gods with entertainment? Perhaps he should feel angry, even betrayed. However, he couldn't think of his predicament in such a way because that would make him a victim, and he’d played that role for far too long before. Choosing to accept the situation as it was at least enabled him to salvage his dignity.

Bakura’s thoughts travelled further back in time. Memories of Battle City came rushing back, particularly memories of someone who had once managed to actually get under his skin… Bakura wondered if the Gods had allotted him a quota for happiness. Perhaps he had filled it during Battle City, and that was the end of it. Thinking that the Gods had such total power over him never failed to evoke within him an instinctual fear for survival. He doubted he could accurately describe it to those who had never experienced it. Ironic that the one person who unnerved him was also the person who had the capacity to understand.

He had to stop himself there. He knew that he would end up reconstructing the memory if he thought about the details because it was impossible to recreate thought processes the way they originally occurred. There was no way he’d let his mind rewrite those moments or accidentally sweep them under the carpet. 

It was this last thought that made him realize he couldn’tjust let his stream of consciousness take over. He needed to make some sort of decision about how to conduct himself. It was the greatest amount of control he had left.

The millennia his spirit had spent in the Ring provided him with past experiences which he could compare to his present situation. The first thing he noticed was a difference; there was no overtly evil presence to haunt him in the Shadow Realm as there had been in the Ring. For thousands of years, Zorc had tormented him by transferring his anguish to Bakura. It had been necessary for Bakura to build a wall of bricks in his soul room to keep Necrophades out. It kept everyone out. Fortunately, there was no need for that now. At least he had space to think. It was the smallest of compensations.

The other notable difference was that there was no hope for him this time. There would be no host with which to share a body, no possibilities of exacting revenge on the one that had wronged him, no alternative… no escape.

Bakura knew he couldn’t maintain his sanity forever. Soon, he would begin losing track of time. Forgetting that he existed at all was the most he had to look forward to, so he decided to do his best to facilitate the process.

He closed his eyes— not that there was anything to see anyway— focused on his breathing, and cleared his thoughts in order to achieve a meditative, sleep-like state of consciousness. Nothing could disturb or interrupt him anymore. Soon, he would forget himself, soon, soon…

* * *

 

Then Bakura felt it. 

A source of light was shining somewhere beyond his closed eyelids. He heard what sounded like a door opening, and opened his eyes to confirm it. Light flooded through the gate, so bright in contrast to the Shadows that it was almost blinding. The coldness that trapped him seemed to retreat as he felt warmth radiate from the door. Was he hallucinating? It was possible that his brain had created illusions to distract him from the Shadow Realm. Or it could be that this was how the Gods planned to torture him: with false hope. Knowing that he could not fully trust his senses to lead him to the truth, he remained skeptical of them. Then a figure appeared to be stepping through. 

The person looked like… 

Still, he was a skeptic, and as a skeptic, he needed proof that this was real.

The figure spoke. “You’d be surprised by what a little bribery at KaibaCorp will get you.” Surely, three of his senses wouldn’t be tricking him? But if this was who he thought it was, the circumstances should’ve made it physically impossible for him to be here. By what the person said, Bakura allowed the possibility that their presence in the Shadow Realm had something to do with the cube they were holding, although he wasn’t sure what it was. Yet even if the laws of physics permitted this being to enter his world, he assumed the Gods would not. After all he had learned about how cruel the universe could be, his intuitions insisted that he was being toyed with. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bakura said, despite his reluctance to let this person know that they had been acknowledged. 

“Why?” came the response. “I told you I’d come for you dumbass.” The tone of voice and insult actually got through to Bakura and registered in his brain. 

That was Marik.

“So don’t give me that mopey bullshit,” Marik continued. Bakura realized that his quietness and lack of confrontational actions would seem out of character, ordinarily. But he was too exhausted by the conditions of the Shadow Realm and his own doubts to give Marik much of a fight. He said nothing. 

“Come on…” Marik walked over to Bakura and extended his hand to help him up. With the light shining from the door behind him, Marik looked almost angelic. 

Bakura was physically as well as mentally drained, so Marik had to help support him as he pulled Bakura into a hug. Bakura became more aware of just how vulnerable he was, a nearly hollow shell standing there in Marik’s arms. 

Bakura felt rather than reasoned that Marik was concerned for him, and he was grateful that Marik had the sense to step outside his worry so as not to belittle Bakura. If there was anyone who could pull off a rescue without making the rescued feel inferior, it was Marik. 

He relented. This was real. Marik had truly come back for him. 

Reassured beyond previous doubts, and having no energy to keep his emotions in check, Bakura could no longer help but experience overwhelming relief, joy, and gratitude. The last time he had been so powerless, he had suffered gravely for it, and those experiences made it all the more difficult for him to let anyone in again. The fact that Marik was here said something about them both. 

“…Let’s go home,” said Marik after giving Bakura a moment to regain his bearings. It was true that Marik’s intentions were usually sketchy, and it was very odd that he took the trouble to get to the Shadow Realm. So without any exchange of words being necessary, Bakura understood all the implications of Marik’s actions. He couldn’t see how Marik had anything to gain from coming back for him, so the only explanation Bakura was left with was that Marik valued him unconditionally. Bakura wasn’t some helpless victim being saved; he was being given the privilege of seeing a rare display of Marik’s altruism. 

Bakura found the strength to return Marik’s embrace, wrapping his arms gently around Marik’s back. Frightening as it was, he let his emotions flow through him unhindered. He focused on the warmth and comfort of the hug, and inhaled the scent of Marik’s hair. He closed his eyes to try and hold back tears, but that didn’t work for long. 

Marik probably noticed but had no apparent reaction and gave no comment. Even if Marik were to wipe away Bakura’s tears, Bakura might perceive the action as an unnecessary reaffirmation of Marik’s power and therefore feel threatened. But Marik gave Bakura the freedom to experience emotions without judgement. Given Marik’s past, that any of this was possible was a miracle. 

When Bakura opened his eyes again, he recognized the familiar city of Domino.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik feels the most feels he's ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't planning to continue this, but here we are

Once they were transported back to their own dimension, Marik cautiously separated himself from Bakura and gave him a few moments to gather his physical strength before they walked into the city. Marik had to return the quantum cube to KaibaCorp, whose staff had allowed him to use it for this single mission only. Another sizable amount of money persuaded them to create identification and a paper trail for Bakura, who stayed at their offices for a couple hours to work out details. 

Being hit with all his emotions and having to readjust to living in his original body was probably taking its toll on Bakura, so Marik reasoned that some time away from him would be good for them both. Reliance on others was not something Bakura ever wanted to make a habit of, so he assured Marik he would find food, clothes, and other necessities by himself. They had agreed to meet that evening, and Marik would let his former partner in crime stay at his place since the resurrected thief had nowhere else to go. They parted ways at KC and Marik began the walk back to his apartment. 

He would’ve been completely overjoyed were it not for something Bakura said to him casually a few minutes ago: “I suppose I ought to make the most of my time.” Marik hadn’t thought anything of it in the moment, but after replaying the morning’s events in his mind, a theory occurred to him. Did Bakura somehow know when he would die and be sent back to the shadows? Why else would he make that comment? Did he just have a preoccupation with death and things ending? It wouldn’t be much of a stretch considering his past.

The others informed Marik of Thief King Bakura’s life in Ancient Egypt, and the unfortunate  circumstances of his village. That was how they described it at least, like another tragic story in the headlines that only affected them for the five minutes they spent thinking about it. Marik could tell that none of them really understood what Bakura had gone through even though they knew the facts of his story. They couldn’t empathize with him like Marik could because they had no experiences with which to compare those events. Marik was the only one who could understand the pain that lurked beneath the surface and how it shaped everything that came after. In a way he was glad that most people couldn’t relate because neither his nor Bakura’s lives were at all easy. No one deserved to go through what they did.

In his mind, he held the image of Bakura behind a concrete and titanium cell, a metaphor for being trapped inside the Ring, trapped by loneliness. He decided that it would be his duty to break Bakura free. Unlike the duties of tomb-keeper, this was something he chose to be committed to of his own free will. He knew the job would be difficult, and it would take all his strength. Yes, he knew exactly what he was getting into, but the way he felt that morning proved to him that anything he could do to help was worth all the effort. He would never give up trying to make Bakura happy, even if their time together was cut short.

Marik knew he couldn’t simply ask, “Hey, do you know when you’re going to die?” He would have to think of a different question that would seem less suspicious but still provide him the information he needed. He couldn’t think of anything creative immediately, but there was nothing to be done until that evening anyway. Instead, he returned to his apartment and slept to clear his mind.

_He was in a familiar place: the town near the tombs his family was charged to protect. He had been there with Ishizu the first time he ventured above ground. The atmosphere was calm and inviting, eliciting a nostalgic warmth from him. This was indeed where he belonged, not the dull lifeless confines of the underground. At the center of this desert town stood an old oak door, decorated with a brass knob. Even as he turned the doorknob he began to feel weightless. Once he had pulled the door open, a golden glow spilled out and he was flying, elevated to a higher dimension. In this place beyond life and death, beyond time, he felt an overwhelming mix of the most extreme emotions. The composite feeling was so powerful that he felt himself becoming disoriented as the world spun around him. It was like looking into the heart of the Sun. Was that Bakura’s heart?_

He woke suddenly from his nap, head spinning. Part of his brain felt like it was still in that higher plane because he felt an ever-present euphoric joy. The feeling made him restless, made him want to scream to express it. Marik had spent the majority of his life learning to clarify and describe intense emotions, but this was on a whole new level. The feeling was overpowering, but he remained determined to adjust to it and explore its nature. He had never done drugs and had no intention to, but the closest identification of the feeling he could name was “high.”

The first explanation for this mental state he could think of was the immediate one: using the quantum cube had somehow changed his brain chemistry. That would also explain why his subconscious recreated dimension-hopping in his dream. However, the answer couldn’t be that simple because no one else who had used or tested the cube reported this effect. It must be more of an emotional change than merely a physical one. 

The next thing Marik tried was comparing the feeling to his memory of wielding the Ra card, which was more accurate. The mighty beast had the powers of creation and destruction, and through its connection to Marik they could exercise those powers. He felt that ability now, but this time he was linked to Bakura.

In the time Marik had known him, the other always had his guard up. True, they had managed to get to know each other a little through their bickering and host-sharing, which Marik had definitely enjoyed, but nothing had compared to what happened earlier that day. Up until that point, he’d always had his reservations about trusting Bakura, and perhaps he should still be careful because Bakura was dangerous. But when Marik held him in his arms and felt his tears, the two of them formed a genuine connection. He could tell that his kindness actually touched Bakura very deeply. To know for certain that he was the cause of such a dramatic change within the normally apathetic 3000-year-old spirit was to know that he meant as much to Bakura as Bakura meant to him. When they had faced his evil side before, Marik thought he was only being used for entertainment or as a means to an end, but the truth was not so ordinary. Bakura really did care what Marik thought of him. What he had witnessed was Bakura’s true emotion. What he continued to feel now was certainty of their bond.

Truth.

Along with his joy came a deep, interwoven sorrow because the thing that made his connection with Bakura possible was their shared pain. He was experiencing all the best, knowing that it resulted from all the worst, and getting it in a very large dose. 

He also worried over the Gods interfering or something happening to Bakura. He kept gettting caught between thoughts of Bakura’s feelings and thoughts about the theory he constructed on his walk back to the apartment. This was a beginning, but it made them both fulfilled enough to approach an ending. Marik wanted more from Bakura, wanted to take their “relationship” further, but what if this was their limit? Marik had to know for sure, because as happy as he was, Bakura’s comment really did worry him. It would be a perfect irony to lose what he fought so hard to revive.

The feeling in his brain was beginning to be annoying because he didn’t have a grasp of it, although he was still grateful for its presence. It was like a perpetual alarm, screaming that this was the best point of his life. He wanted the ability to make sense of the feeling without ridding himself of it. 

Marik thought a ride on his motorcycle would put things in perspective. That’s what usually helped. Sometimes he went for long bike rides as a way to cope with his negative emotions. After the loss of his other half, he had no other way to process them, and he didn’t want to take his anger out on his siblings. He was still passive-aggressive sometimes, but he managed to hide the worst of it. Other times he would go on journeys to who-knows-where just for the sake of being spontaneous and rebellious. His family had kept themselves underground long enough. Why shouldn’t he have a little fun? He could go wherever he wanted, with no one to remind him of the duties that were unfairly imposed upon him. Perhaps another purpose of riding the motorcycle was to make up for all the years his ancestors spent below ground, like some twisted universal balance. Being on the road was the closest thing he had to freedom. Except his interactions with Bakura.

Marik began to wonder if he would ever feel the need to ride his motorcycle again. It no longer possessed the appeal it once had. He would rather spend his time with Bakura.

When he arrived back home, the clock read 2:58 and the feeling was still as strong as ever. He spent another couple hours wandering around restlessly until it was time for him to meet Bakura in the city.

By the time they met, Marik had thought of a question to ask. “So, you have your future all planned out now?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

Marik was never more relieved to be wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bakura learns from a piece of Marik's wisdom.

The first day of Bakura’s return was relatively calm as the only development was Marik adapting his apartment, converting a couch in the living room into Bakura’s bed. Marik would’ve loved to hug and comfort his partner, but he could tell there were things on Bakura’s mind and knew better than to bother him until he had a better grip on his new life. As a result, the two spent more time apart than together.

Hours drifted by as Bakura contemplated the rapid changes of his environment. Most immediate of his concerns was his purpose for living. The thief had been hell-bent on avenging his people for so long, and now that their souls were freed, it would be difficult to set a different goal without feeling like all his previous efforts amounted to nothing. The only good thing to come out of his quest for the Millennium Items was his partnership with Marik. It didn’t take long for Bakura to conclude that the meaning of his new life would be tied to his partner, so for the time being, he would focus on developing that relationship. The other man meant the world to him, so he made it his secret mission to ensure Marik’s wellbeing. A full life spent caring for loved ones was something the pharaoh would never get to experience.

There were no more chances of being sent to the Shadow Realm, no more card games to decide the fate of the world, and many chances to fulfill his personal potential, but Bakura soon discovered a new challenge. He had survived a massacre, the torturous years inside the Ring, and even the setback of his loss to the pharaoh, but the obstacle he encountered that night was one of daily life. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t find a solution or any way around it. 

It was on the second day that Marik noticed something was off. When he tried to make conversation, Bakura would only offer one-word answers or make excuses to be alone. It was like he was trying to conceal his own existence. Earlier, Marik had assumed his partner simply wanted space to find independence, and although it was true the day before, there was more to the thief’s defensiveness now. Marik noted with growing concern the dark circles under Bakura’s eyes, and the more he thought, the more he was beginning to understand. 

Bakura knew his behavior would give Marik the sense that something wasn’t right, and he would’ve told the other what it was, if there had been a solution. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be anything either of them could do about it.

Under no circumstances did Bakura want to fall asleep. 

The previous night was spent pacing restlessly around the apartment, and he assigned himself the tasks of keeping watch and being alert for any nightmares Marik may have had. 

Sleeping was something Bakura hadn’t done in over 3000 years, and even in ancient Egypt, it had been sparingly. During the brief span of his life after the Incident, he spent many restless nights plotting, plundering, and enduring the harsh desert ecosystem. Then there had been the Ring. As a spirit, he had no need of sleep, so he kept up a constant vigil to maintain his defenses against Zorc. Under consequence of perpetual torment, he figured out that his mind was the one thing the demon had no power over. His thoughts were his and his alone. As long as he was paying attention, he could at least exercise self-control. And so, the protective wall in his soul room was constructed meticulously, brick by brick, impenetrable. His mental powers had kept him alive for so long that it was difficult to think surrendering consciousness was a good idea.

The ordeal of sleeping was trivial to other humans who understood it plainly as rest and rejuvenation. However, the idea that he should conform only added to his concern. So much of the human activity he observed over the years only occurred because no one thought better of it. People obeyed norms without thinking about the implications of their actions because they’d never been forced to survive on their own, as he had. Exclusion made it easier for him to look upon things objectively. The only time Bakura was happy to follow the crowd was in his village, but they had been stolen from him. The pharaoh’s soldiers probably thought the creation of the Items was acceptable, but that didn’t make it right. 

The threats of the past were no longer with him, but that didn’t mean he should abandon the beliefs that had kept him alive. New threats always arose— for example, the Gods. They were probably not in favor of his unlikely resurrection, and they could take everything away from him at a moment’s notice. If they really did want to challenge him, he wasn’t going to be taken lying down. 

Still, the thought that sleeping was risky or against his code seemed absurd. He knew he’d have to address the problem eventually, so it didn’t do him any good not to think about it, but continuing to analyze arguments in his head didn’t bring him any closer to a conclusion either. Surrendering to unawareness now felt deeply wrong, yet his body required sleep. This situation was pitting his principles against his needs. If he changed his belief system, he risked vulnerability and losing his sense of self. If he forewent sleep, he wouldn’t be around much longer anyway. These were the horns of the dilemma.

The limitation of his choices sickened him. The most he could do was try to play it off like it didn’t bother him, but even that felt like a betrayal. _If you let go, they’ll take everything away from you again. And this time, your submission will be voluntary_ was the train of thought that continually ran circles around his head, all through the day and into the night.

As this train was making another round on tired, worn tracks, Marik walked into the living room. He was in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he casually settled down on a couch opposite Bakura’s. By now, he had a feeling he knew what was getting to the man who seemingly had no fears.

Bakura knew his partner was mindful, so he kept his keen gaze on Marik; what he proceeded to do was surely deliberate. 

The blond placed his head on a pillow at one end of the couch and laid on his stomach, knowing very well that he was taking a risk by leaving his back exposed to someone with a fondness of knives. “It would be unwise of me to fall asleep here with a thief in my house… But maybe I trust you.” Before Bakura could retort, Marik closed his eyes and feigned sleep, knowing Bakura wouldn’t call him out on it. 

Marik’s choice of words and position had its intended effect, as the other soon caught on. It was incredible just how much passed between them unsaid; the average observer would never be able to guess how deep their connection went beneath the surface. 

Bakura finally had a justification for sleeping: he needed to reciprocate the trust Marik had placed in him. Furthermore, choosing not to sleep would create a difference between them while his goal was to bring them closer together. He marvelled at how easily Marik figured out the problem and presented him with a way out. In a matter of five minutes, his partner transformed the issue of sleep from one about consciousness to one about their trust. This was Marik’s power: he could flip any situation on its head. 

It was strange that two days earlier, Bakura doubted he would ever see this man again. But he had showed up out of the blue and was now solving most of Bakura’s problems with a casual ease. He wouldn’t normally accept help from anyone, but Marik had proven himself to be different. If anyone else ever got to know him so well, Bakura doubtlessly would’ve killed them by now. 

Finally, Bakura drifted off into a peaceful sleep with his Marik across from him. It was the most rest he’d received in a long time. 

The next morning, Bakura woke to find Marik making coffee for him. When Marik caught his stare, he asked with a smug grin, “Sugar, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it for you. <3


End file.
